SUNDAY MORNING AGONY
Sunday mornings always arrives unexpectedly and yet so welcome. The only morning that attempts to keep you in the bed by sheer force if the need is there. All those tasks relegated to Sunday seem to have faded away: From helping with the dishes in the kitchen to helping with the Sunday meal. What irks me the most is the amount of hands that need aid in order to get that unheard-of task going? Then this, then that, but hardly a moment alone to have a smoke on the front stoep. Whoa, that was meant to be something more in the line of tobacco not that other stuff people march for.
Round about nine-o-clock the telephone rings: Initially it was a lady who wanted to know if I had bought my Sunday News papers. I reminded her that should I want Sunday Papers I will take a short trip to the cafe” just down the block. And so the phone rang 4 times. Eventually the phone was switched off. This past Sunday a male phones me and asked if I had already received my Sunday Papers to which I replied no because I had made no arrangements to have them delivered to me, in Welkom on a Sunday. On Sunday Welkom is dead anyway. Soon it is a horde of garden workers who are scanning the area in order to find some garden related tasks. By this time one is quite worked up to a lofty temperature. Mind you a cold one could cool down the ire. After lunch has been served the plates. Pots, dishes and what not needs to be cleaned and guess who does the drying up.? When that is done then the prospects of a Sunday Afternoon snooze loom closer and closer and when it is almost slapping one the telephone rings : The clothing Iron of the lady down the road has packed up and now she cannot iron juniors trousers and shirt: What will the teachers say if junior turns up unironed. Well I could not care less but what is irking me is Sunday has a nasty habit of contracting faster than other days. We sent the spare iron over to the lady and hoped it would not go the same way as hers did.